


Solnishko Versus Sammy's Time at Stanford:  When AUs Collide

by ZoyciteM



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Dark fic, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Hurt No Comfort, I hate doing tags, M/M, Mafioso Castiel, Massive Major Character Death, NOT Hurt/Comfort, People as Pets, Pet Sam Winchester, Psychological Torture, Sammy's Time at Stanford AU, Solnishko AU, Torture, Very Dark Fic, Very Very Dark Fic, Violent AU Collision, forcible confinement, human slavery, no happy ending, with a passion
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-01-06
Updated: 2018-01-06
Packaged: 2019-03-01 08:43:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,662
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13291260
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ZoyciteM/pseuds/ZoyciteM
Summary: This is an AU Crossover, as imagined byAzrielRoseon Chapter 41 ofSammy's Time at Stanford.  I've lifted Jimmy from the StaS universe, and plonked him into the universe fromSolnishko.This is a oneshot, and exists outside of both of the source AUs.  Kindly ignore the utterly preposterous setup, and the killing-off of most of our favourite StaS characters.  It's all in the name of seeing everyone's favourite adorable brat torment everyone's favourite mafia kingpin... or was that the other way around?





	Solnishko Versus Sammy's Time at Stanford:  When AUs Collide

**Author's Note:**

  * For [AzrielRose](https://archiveofourown.org/users/AzrielRose/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Solnishko](https://archiveofourown.org/works/8398594) by [ZoyciteM](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ZoyciteM/pseuds/ZoyciteM). 



> This one upset a lot of people before it was even published. Heed the tags.

The Novak household had heard, through Henrik's mysterious channels, of a young man being held captive by the Russian mafia, just down the coast from the house in Palo Alto. A young man who, somehow, bore a striking resemblance to Sam.

They'd launched an offensive, an attempt to rescue the boy, but it had all gone terribly, terribly wrong.

Jimmy had watched his brother die, and Sam and Dean die, and even Henrik had died, in the swarm of men and the hail of gunfire. The boy's captors had been more prepared than any of them could ever have conceived.

Somehow, the bullets had missed him, where he crouched behind one of the vehicles, curled up and panicking, watching people die all around him. He'd watched the light fade from Dean's eyes as he bled out. After a ringing silence had fallen, a man had come around the edge of the vehicle, reached down, and dragged Jimmy up with a hard hand around Jimmy's bicep.

Jimmy stared blankly up at him. The man had his face, his eyes, but Jimmy's own face had never borne that expression, the fury, the scowl... nor had it ever been bloodspattered, as the man's was. The man was older, as well, salt and pepper in his dark hair.

Jimmy had been hauled inside building they'd been attempting to attack, stripped naked and tossed into an empty concrete cell. Its only furnishings were a one-piece metal toilet, a steel sink fixed to the wall, and a pile of four rolls of toilet tissue.

Jimmy spent a great deal of time crying, mourning the loss of the people who meant the most to him. It felt as though three quarters of his heart had been violently ripped out, leaving a cavernous, gaping wound in his chest, one that he wasn't sure would ever heal.

He cried, got dehydrated, drank from cupped hands from the sink, and continued to cry. It was an endless cycle. It only stopped when his eyes were too dry and too sore to produce tears, at which point he curled up silently in a corner, his face buried his arms, wrapped around drawn-up legs.

He wondered if Mum and Dad knew where he was, if they were working on getting him free... if they'd ever forgive him for how hard he'd campaigned to rescue the captive boy. Jimmy clenched his hands in his hair, and sobbed. He wasn't even sure if they'd know he was even alive.

Jimmy was left alone for a very long time. Long enough that he'd gone from a little peckish, to hungry, to a point so far beyond hunger that all there was was pain and nausea.

His door opened.

The man that looked like him entered, still scowling, followed by another man wielding a gun.

Jimmy was hauled to his feet, and shoved against the wall, his back against the cold concrete, and his neck in the man's hard grip, tight enough that he could barely get air in. He stared at the man with terrified eyes.

“Who are you with? Who sent you??” The man's voice was a low growl.

The hand around his throat loosened enough that he could have answered, if he'd had an answer to give. His mouth opened, but nothing came out.

The man switched languages, to what Jimmy assumed was Russian, two short, abrupt questions. Jimmy still couldn't answer. The man changed languages again, to one which sounded much more mellifluous and light – and asked more questions.

Jimmy forced himself to speak. “N-no one. No one s-sent us. We were trying... to save the boy.”

The man blinked. “You came for Sam??”

Jimmy felt rage shove at the fear that was clawing at his insides. “You KILLED Sam!! You killed him and Dean and my brother...”

Jimmy's hands came up - one clawed at the man's arm, and the other at his cheek. The man recoiled, his frown deepening. His hand tightened around Jimmy's throat, cutting off his air. He pulled Jimmy towards him a little, only to _slam_ the back of Jimmy's head against the concrete wall.

Stars burst behind Jimmy's eyes, his vision doubled, and he slid to the floor when the man released him. He could feel the blood trickling down the back of his head, and the spot where it had impacted the wall was throbbing agony. When he could see properly again, he looked fearfully up towards the man's face. 

The man's expression was eerily, perfectly blank. There were long, red welts scratched into his cheek. He was silent for a long moment.

“You may address me as _gospodin_. What is your name?”

“M-my name is _fuck you_. You let me go, right now.” Jimmy tried to keep the trembling of his body and voice to a minimum. 

The corner of the man's mouth quirked up into a smile. “You're very brave, aren't you, little one?”

Jimmy's chin lifted defiantly, though his eyes kept darting to the man near the door, with the gun. “Let me go!!”

“Shut your mouth.” The smile fell off the man's face. He crouched down, so that he was on the same level as Jimmy. 

Jimmy was silent for a long moment, staring at his captor, before lunging up and trying to make a run for the door. The man twisted and grabbed him around the middle before he was even all the way up, forcing him onto his back on the floor, straddling him and wrapping his throat in a tight grip. He pulled a gun from behind his back, and pressed it to Jimmy's forehead, dead centre.

The man was calm behind the gun. “Are you finished?” The grip on Jimmy's throat loosened slightly.

Jimmy managed to croak out his, “yes.” The metal of the gun seemed very cold against his skin.

“What is your name?”

“J-Jimmy Novak. Heir to the...” Jimmy's voice was cut off abruptly as the grip on his throat tightened viciously.

“You cannot imagine how much I do not care what you're the heir to. If I ask you a question, you answer it, and then keep your silence. Understood?”

The man held the grip for several long moments, before loosening it again. Jimmy hauled in a breath and coughed, his throat feeling crushed. He nodded, in lieu of answering.

“My name is Castiel Krushnic. Heir to the Krushnic empire.” The man smirked.

Jimmy's jaw dropped. How could this man, who looked so much like Jimmy and his brother, have _the same name_ as the twin his men had just killed?

Tears pricked, burning, in the corners of Jimmy's eyes. “You... you killed Cas.”

One of the man's eyebrows lifted. “Excuse me?”

“My brother! My _twin_! Castiel Novak! You killed him!!” Jimmy felt another surge of fury, and writhed underneath Castiel's weight, trying to claw at him again, to kick...

The Castiel above him slammed the butt of the gun against Jimmy's temple, and Jimmy fell back, limp and dazed against the concrete, panting hard.

“I will grant that it is a peculiar coincidence that I share an unusual first name with your deceased twin. Perhaps if you hadn't attempted to invade my compound his death could have been avoided, hmm?” Castiel brushed Jimmy's hair back, out of his eyes, with the muzzle of the gun.

Jimmy swallowed back the surge of nausea, of self-blame and self-loathing. He forced himself to nod.

“You're very pretty, Jimmy Novak.” Castiel mused, trailing the muzzle of the gun down Jimmy's cheek, before pressing it in hard enough that it forced Jimmy to twist his head off to the side. Jimmy stared blankly down the length of the concrete floor of his cell, his heart hammering, not certain if these were the last moments of his life.

“You'll make someone a fine pet. I'd keep you myself, but as you know, I already have one.”

“P-people don't m-make good pets.” Jimmy managed to force his words out, trying to find his courage.

“Oh, but they really do. The very best pets. And it's quite common, really, though apparently not in the circles you socialize in. There's a _colossal_ market for human slaves. Pets.”

“L-let the kid go.”

“After how much time, effort and money I've put into him? I rather think not. Though _you_ , on the other hand... you I could turn a profit on.”

Jimmy's blood froze.

“So. As I said earlier, you may address me as _gospodin_. Say it.”

Jimmy shot Castiel a glare that could melt glass, from the corner of his eye, and kept his silence. Castiel frowned down at him.

Castiel shot a few words in Russian over his shoulder, to his colleague near the door, who nodded and left the room. There were a long few minutes, where Castiel stared down at Jimmy, and Jimmy stalwartly refused to look at Castiel. The gun was still pressed into his cheek.

“It would still be easier for me to kill you, than to train you. Are you that eager to die?”

Jimmy swallowed hard.

_Cas. Sam. Dean._

Another lengthy pause. “No.” Jimmy couldn't exact revenge on the monster who had killed them, if he was dead.

Just then, the other man returned. Castiel lifted the gun from his cheek, and Jimmy turned his head to see.

His heart stopped.

The man was bearing a pile of chain, heavy steel shackles, and an equally heavy-looking steel collar.

Panic gripped Jimmy, and he writhed, still pinned under Castiel.

“ _Madonna mia_ , do you never stop?” Castiel sounded exasperated, and gripped Jimmy's jaw in a punishingly hard grip. Jimmy panted and whimpered.

“P-please. Please don't put those on me. Please.” Jimmy wasn't even sure why they scared him so badly. Perhaps because him and his dead twin had a very similar set in their playroom back in Chicago, glossy chrome. But these had clearly seen hard use, were stained and darkened with rust in spots – or at least, Jimmy _hoped_ it was only rust – but regardless, these ones weren't for playing games.

Jimmy trembled, his eyes shut tight, as the henchman fastened them, heavy and cold, around his wrists and ankles. There was another lengthy pause, and Jimmy wasn't sure what was happening. He pried open an eye, to see Castiel smiling down at him, the heavy collar in one hand, and the gun still in the other.

“Come now. Where's all that bravura gone?” Castiel chuckled. “You're like a terrified little kitten, backed into a corner. Your claws may be sharp, but ultimately, you're powerless. Lift your head.”

Jimmy reacted on pure instinct. He tried to buck Castiel off at the same time he reached for the gun. Before he even knew what was happening, the gun went off inches from his head, his vision whited out, and his ears rang deafeningly. He froze, not certain if he'd been shot or not.

Before he could hear or see, he felt Castiel flip him over onto his stomach with a soft grunt, muttering under his breath. His head was wrenched backwards, and his vision and hearing gradually returned to him, just in time to feel the heavy steel close around the base of his throat. His arms were wrenched up behind him, bent at the elbows, and he heard the slither of chain. There were several soft _snicks_ , and Castiel stood, brushing off his hands.

Jimmy writhed, trying to figure out how he'd been bound. He tried to pull his arms down, and the front of the collar was jammed into his throat, making him choke and cough. He raised them back up, and the pressure lifted. He stilled, panting, face down on the floor, cheek against the rough concrete.

“The next bullet won't miss, little one. This was a warning. You may address me as _gospodin_. Say it.” Jimmy heard the gun cock, and knew Castiel's finger was on the trigger.

Jimmy forcibly reminded himself that this wasn't one of him and his brother's games. His continued lip wasn't going to get him a spanking, it was going to get him dead. 

“ _G-gospodin._ ” Jimmy forced out, between gritted teeth.

“Better.” Castiel leaned back down, and grabbed Jimmy by the upper arms, pulling him to his feet. “Now. I think a little punishment is in order, don't you?”

 _Punishment?! If that hadn't been punishment, then what the hell had it been?_ Jimmy stayed silent.

“Before your men were defeated by my men, they managed to eliminate a number of mine. I'm thinking a lash for each one of my men you killed, and you can repeat their names after me. Understood?”

Jimmy bit back his retort, glaring mutinously at Castiel.

The henchman near the door said something in Russian, and Castiel grinned.

“He said, 'come on, kitten, show us your claws.' Now. When I ask you a question, or ask if you've understood something, you answer, 'yes, _gospodin_.' Understood?” Castiel was still grinning.

Every fibre of Jimmy wanted to rebel, but Castiel still had the gun, tucked neatly into the front of his pants, and effectively out of Jimmy's reach. “Y-yes, _gospodin_.”

“Ah, so he _is_ teachable. I was beginning to have my doubts.” Castiel moved to the pile of chain, selecting a piece, and returning to Jimmy, who took a frightened step backwards, and then another. His arms, the left chained folded above the right at the base of his back, hit the wall behind him.

“Perfect! And so accommodating.” Castiel crowded him against the wall, and Jimmy whimpered. Castiel wasn't all that much taller than he was, but Jimmy felt small and cowed. Castiel attached the chain to a ring bolted into the wall, above Jimmy's head, and attached it at the other end to the back of Jimmy's collar, pulling it tight enough that Jimmy had to either stand up straight, or be choked.

Castiel took a few steps backwards, and murmured some Russian to the man near the door, who walked out into the hallway. Jimmy stood, arms and shoulders pressed against the wall behind him, and tried not to show how frightened he was.

The man returned, bearing a vicious-looking single tail whip, handing it to Castiel. Jimmy didn't manage to stifle his panicked whine. 

“We'll do them alphabetically, I think. Does that sound agreeable?”

The first sob broke from Jimmy's throat. “P-please.”

Castiel wound up, and the whip cut through the air with a terrifying whoosh, landing a searing welt across Jimmy's ribs, on the left-hand side, and angling down on his abdomen. Jimmy screamed and arched off the wall, throttling himself and cutting off his sounds, before remembering to stand back, and stand up straight.

Castiel's voice was perfectly even. “Say, 'yes, _gospodin_.'”

“Y-yes, _g-gospodin_ , yes!” Jimmy choked his words out, sobbing.

“Better. Anatoli.” Castiel swung again, and this one tore a strip off of the front of Jimmy's right thigh. Jimmy screamed again, but remembered not to lurch forward.

“A... A-Ana-toli.”

“Vitya.” Agonizing pain across his right pec, and Jimmy was deeply confused about how they'd moved from an 'a' name to a 'v' name in one strike.

“V-Vitya.” 

“Gavrill.”

Jimmy had his eyes clenched tight, but Castiel must've been ambidextrous with the whip, because the blows came from both sides, equally hard. This one wrapped around his ribs, on the right, and pulled an anguished groan from him.

 _A to V to... G?_ “G-Gavrill.”

“Evgeny. A valued lieutenant.” This one wrapped around Jimmy's waist, on the left, and the pain was so intense over the thin skin over his hipbone that Jimmy felt his consciousness waver.

Jimmy was silent for a moment too long, trying to gather his wits, and Castiel repeated – cold fury in his voice - “Evgeny.”

A horrific slash over the delicate skin of Jimmy's lower abdomen, and he shrieked, his eyes flying open, his vision greyed out. 

Castiel gave him a moment longer this time, long enough for Jimmy to choke out, “Ev... Evgeny.”

“Stepan.” The slash caught the front of both of Jimmy's thighs, and where it intersected with the first was a blinding nova of pain.

Jimmy collapsed, the collar choking off his breath, and unable to stand back up to relieve the pressure. Castiel dropped the whip and moved to him, gripping his sides under his armpits, and lifting him enough for him to haul in a gasped breath and begin to cough.

Castiel waited a few moments, and whispered, directly into Jimmy's ear, “Stepan.”

Jimmy's head was feeling really heavy on his neck, and he let it fall forward, landing on Castiel's shoulder. His voice was hoarse, when he managed to get the word out. “S-Step-pan.”

“How many was that, kitten?” 

_Anatoli. Vitya. Gavrill. Evgeny. Stepan._ “F-five, _g-gospodin_.”

“Five. Five of my men, dead, because you, in your infinite wisdom, decided that my pet, who is quite precious to me, ought to be free.” Castiel reached to the back of Jimmy's collar, and unattached the chain holding him against the wall. Castiel let him slide, slowly, down the wall, and into a crumpled heap on the floor.

Castiel snapped something in Russian to his henchman, who left again. He stood, staring down at Jimmy silently. Jimmy shifted, wincing, on the floor, trying to get the raw, bleeding spots away from the harsh concrete.

Jimmy was breathing hard, through his nose, staring at the floor when he saw movement out of his peripherals. It was the henchman, leading the boy – Sam – by the arm.

It was the strangest thing Jimmy had ever seen in his life. This... this Not-Sam had an identical face, right down to the mole near his nose, but... but was completely different. Stark naked, save for deep brown leather cuffs around his wrists and ankles, and a matching collar. He had several piercings – his bottom lip and nose and ears - and a tattoo of a beauty mark near his mouth. Slender, almost gaunt, where Sam had been muscular. Not-Sam's skin was smooth and golden, his eyes wide and frightened, ringed with smudged eyeliner. He moved immediately to Castiel, who wrapped him in a warm embrace, and Jimmy could hear the boy's contented sigh.

Jimmy was gobsmacked. He gaped at the rows of rings running down Not-Sam's back. 

“ _Solnishko_. This boy is the only survivor of the attack on the compound. His name is Jimmy. They were trying to take you from me.” Castiel stroked a hand down Not-Sam's cheek, and the boy turned his face into Castiel's palm.

“B-but why, _gospodin_?” Not-Sam's voice was soft, and his brow wrinkled as he frowned.

“Him and his men didn't wish you to be mine, dear one. Would you tell him, please, whether you wish to leave me, or to stay?” Gentle fingers on Not-Sam's chin turned his face towards Jimmy.

“Y-you shouldn't have come. I... I belong here, with my _gospodin_. I'll... I'll stay with him f-for as long as he'll have me.” Not-Sam carefully pulled his chin free. When he spoke again, it was barely a murmur, his cheek pressed against Castiel's, his face turned away from Jimmy. “Am... am I in trouble, _gospodin_?”

“Of course not, sweet boy. The same, however, can't be said for our friend here.”

“C-can I go back upstairs, p-please, _gospodin_?”

“Of course. Ilia will take you. Be good.” Castiel gave Not-Sam a pat on the bottom, and though Not-Sam loosened his arms, he was apparently reluctant to release Castiel. “Go, go.” Castiel chuckled.

Not-Sam cast one final look at Jimmy, bleeding and sprawled on the floor, before moving hesitantly to the henchman, who took his wrist and led him from the room.

Castiel rounded on Jimmy the moment Sam was out of earshot. 

“Do you see? Was this worth the lives of dozens of your men, and five of mine?”

“H-he's brainwashed. You brainwashed him.” Jimmy spoke through gritted teeth.

“This is hardly the place or time to discuss ways and means. What it comes down to is that your attack was a fool's mission, a rescue mission for someone who's already been rescued. He was a prostitute, an inch from being evicted from his home, when I found him. Now he has peace. He has a purpose.”

Jimmy stared blankly at Castiel. Regardless of how patently, obviously wrong it was, Castiel didn't seem to see it – and Jimmy doubted he'd ever be able to make him to.

“S-so what are you going to d-do to me?” Jimmy shot another glare at Castiel, before lowering his gaze.

“Well, my men will repeatedly starve, torture, and rape you, until all of that fight, all of that adorable ferociousness is beaten out of you. It may take months, or years, but it _will_ happen. At which point, I'll take you to be sold at auction, where boys broken at my hand always fetch a high price, owing to their impeccable behaviour.”

Jimmy's mouth fell open, and he forgot to close it. After a few long moments, he found his words again. “L-look. My... my parents are rich. R-really rich. If it's money you want, they'll... they'll pay a ransom for me. M-millions. Tens of millions.”

Castiel looked thoughtful, stroking a hand against his own chin. “That might've tempted me, had you simply fallen into my hands by chance. But to be honest, I have more money than I could ever need, and there's also the small matter of Anatoli, Vitya, Gavrill, Evgeny, and Stepan.”

Castiel crouched down in front of Jimmy again, close enough to touch. He moved to brush Jimmy's hair back out of his eyes, but Jimmy flinched back from the touch. He withdrew his hand. “No. At this point it's simple, pure desire to see you broken that drives me. And I will see it.” Castiel stood, brushing his hands off on his pants.

“H-hundreds of millions...” Jimmy tried, his voice weak.

Castiel chuckled, stretched, turned, and picked up the whip. Jimmy's heart pounded, but all Castiel did was leave, quietly closing the door after himself.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Mrs. Novak's Solution.](https://archiveofourown.org/works/13377108) by [Lira_Chimera](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lira_Chimera/pseuds/Lira_Chimera)




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